


Dapper

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Dirty Talk, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Muggle Fashion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco starts wearing Muggle suits and Harry’s definitely losing his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dapper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nearlyconscious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearlyconscious/gifts).



  


**Banner Art by Capitu**   


Draco Malfoy is a pale, pointy, obnoxious arse of a human being.

He’s all slender limbs and high cheekbones and his hair is a ridiculous shade of white blonde which probably isn’t even natural. He’s always perfectly coiffed and lounges around on various bits of Ministry furniture like he’s in the Slytherin common room again, holding court for anyone who’ll listen. At one point, Harry’s tempted to have a velvet fucking throne delivered to Malfoy’s pretentious, wanky office, full of posh old maps and marble ornaments.

“He’d probably like it,” Ron points out and that puts Harry right off.

Malfoy hasn’t improved with age. Not in the slightest. He might not be making fun of Harry’s dead parents or the Weasley family anymore and he’s certainly not full of _my father will hear about this_ snooty, Dark Lord loving bravado, but he’s still a right git. He’s always around when Harry least wants to see him, getting under Harry’s skin like nobody’s business. He seems to take great delight in making Harry feel as irritated as possible at any given opportunity.

Like now, for instance. 

“This was a stupid idea,” Malfoy hisses. He’s kneeling behind a large bush and his elbow is digging rather uncomfortably into Harry’s side. He smells like posh cologne and coconut, the scent reminding Harry of Muggle suntan lotion and pushing his toes into sun-kissed sand, a million miles away from the rain and mud of the Yorkshire Dales.

“We’re on stakeout, Malfoy. God.” Harry elbows Malfoy back and tries to fit next to him underneath the Invisibility Cloak which is a lot smaller than Harry remembered. His breath huffs against the material and it’s too hot and warm, sitting next to Malfoy despite the cold, wet mud seeping through his jeans and onto his arse. This wasn’t one of his brightest ideas, but he’s definitely not about to admit that to Malfoy. “Can’t you shut up for a minute? They’re going to know we’re here.”

“Who the fuck’s going to know? We’re the only ones here. It’s been hours. It’s cold and I want a cup of tea and a warm bed. This is ridiculous.” Malfoy’s eyes narrow and he turns to Harry, his breath warm against Harry’s skin. “ _You’re_ ridiculous. My robes are ruined.”

“Shouldn’t have worn such a poncy outfit to work then, should you?” Harry’s voice holds a note of triumph and he tries to ignore the sweet, chocolatey scent of Malfoy’s breath. He definitely doesn’t allow his gaze to linger on Malfoy’s lips, curved downwards in disapproval.

“These are _official Auror robes_.” Malfoy grits his teeth and frowns at Harry. “Which you would know if you bothered to wear anything that didn’t look like it’s come from a Muggle charity shop.”

“You’re not even an Auror, you great tit.” Harry huffs out his words and tries to keep his voice level. There’s something about Malfoy that makes him want to scream with frustration, heat pulsing through his body and his skin prickling with irritation. Bloody Malfoy.

“I’m an Unspeakable. We don’t have _costumes_.” Malfoy says it as if Harry’s the one dolled up in the Ministry’s finest new range of official Auror attire. “I thought it would be appropriate.”

“Well obviously, it’s not.” Harry steals a glance at Malfoy who would look half decent if he wasn’t scrunched up next to Harry and muttering something which sounds suspiciously like _I should have just handed you over to the Dark Lord when I had the chance_. “I really hate you sometimes, Malfoy.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Potter.” Malfoy emphasises his response with another sharp dig of his elbow in Harry’s side.

Harry growls and pulls the invisibility cloak tightly around them, pointedly refusing to say another word. He has a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

*

The thing is, most people quite like Harry. He’s got plenty of friends and people always tell him he’s nice and funny and stuff. He doesn’t think he’s anything special in the looks department, but Hermione assures him he looks quite good with his new glasses. Oliver Wood once snogged him senseless and told him it was right up there with coming second in the Quidditch league. He can’t understand why things between he and Malfoy seem to get worse, rather than better.

“I think he’s improved, Harry.” Hermione doesn’t look up from her book, frowning at a passage and underlining it several times. “You should give him a chance. He’s quite clever, really and he’s stopped making all of those horrible comments. He’s grown up a lot since Hogwarts.”

“Are we talking about the same Malfoy?” Harry dips his voice when he’s given a pointed glare by the Ministry librarian. “He’s still a complete pillock. Did I tell you he cast a Stinging Hex at me when Shacklebolt was briefing us on our next assignment? Kingsley thought I was bonkers.”

“It’s quite impressive being able to do non-verbal, wandless magic,” Hermione muses. “Don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t bloody _think_.” Harry tries to avoid spluttering and forces himself to whisper. He’s never been particularly good at that. “I think he should be fired.”

“Oh come on, Harry. No you don’t.” Hermione looks up with a laugh and her eyes shine as she contemplates Harry. “I think you’d miss having him around.”

“I most certainly would not.” Harry pulls out his own book with a _harrumph_ of annoyance. He focuses on the words he can’t really take in and tries to imagine the Ministry without Malfoy. He has to admit it can be quite fun sometimes, meeting every barbed comment Malfoy makes with one of his own until people around them start rolling their eyes and making their excuses, leaving him and Malfoy locked in verbal combat. It could get a bit boring with no one around to irritate him on a daily basis. At least it distracts Harry from dull paperwork.

He’s three chapters in when he admits Hermione might have a point, not that he’d ever say as much out loud.

*

“Why is Malfoy in Muggle clothes?” Harry’s skin prickles, hot and tingling as he stares at Malfoy, lounging elegantly in the door frame of the Leaky Cauldron talking to someone from the Ministry.

“Probably investigating something with a Muggle angle, I expect.” Ron raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly at Harry’s ripped jeans and comfortable knitted jumper. “He’s off duty anyway, who cares? Besides, mate. He’s not the only one.”

Harry swallows. Usually Malfoy looks expensive and Slytherin enough to remind Harry that he’s the son of Lucius Malfoy and the bane of Harry’s existence. This evening, in a tailored Muggle suit that looks as though it was designed just for him, Malfoy looks…good. He moves with a confident stride, the material emphasising every taut line of his body and the navy of the suit contrasting perfectly with his skin tone and bringing out flecks of blue behind cool, grey eyes. His white shirt is open at the collar and it exposes just enough skin for Harry to trace his eyes over the curve of Malfoy’s neck and the rise and fall of his collarbone. 

“Potter. Weasley.” Instead of heading for Blaise and Pansy who are both drinking nearby, Malfoy makes a beeline for Harry and slides into the seat next to him without so much as a _mind if I sit down?_

“Evening, Malfoy.” Ron doesn’t look too put out and that’s definitely a first. Ron _hates_ Malfoy just as much as Harry does. Doesn’t he? Harry narrows his eyes at Ron who shrugs and gives Harry a sheepish look. There’s definitely something Ron isn’t telling him.

“Your friends are over there.” Harry pokes Draco in the side with his elbow and nods towards the decidedly more Slytherin table. “Bugger off.”

“But I always have so much fun with you, Potter. I thought the least you could do is buy me a drink after spoiling my new robes with that ridiculous plan of yours the other evening.”

Ron raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching into a smile. “What happened to Malfoy’s robes?”

“Potter had me kneeling in the mud,” Malfoy replies, smoothly. He gives Harry a smirk, his words dripping with innuendo.

Heat rises from Harry’s neck to his cheeks and he tries to shake the feeling which creeps over him as Malfoy’s leg presses against his own. “I didn’t exactly-”

“Sounds interesting.” Ron’s laughing, Harry can tell. He looks up and Ron gives him a wink. “Tell you what, why don’t I buy you both a drink? I’ve got to get back, anyway. Hermione’s supposed to be cooking and that’s not something she should do alone.”

Harry gives Ron a pleading look. “Do you have to go?”

“You know what it’s like, mate.” Ron claps Harry on the shoulder and goes to the bar, whistling. 

“Just you and me then, Potter.” Malfoy doesn’t sound at all bothered. 

“Yeah.” Harry tries not to focus on the way Malfoy’s slim fingers _tap, tap_ on the table or the scent of his familiar cologne which assaults Harry’s senses. “Just you and me.”

*

The bottle of wine goes down rather well, all things considered. It’s a delicious, fruity red – rich with blackcurrants and blackberries. Harry’s surprised to find himself relaxing into Malfoy’s company, the heat of Malfoy’s leg against his own and the wine combining to make him feel warm all over.

“Your suit is horrible.” It isn’t, but Harry doesn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of telling him he looks good. Malfoy knows he looks good. He’s practically preening. “Why are you wearing Muggle clothes?”

“I fancied a change.” Malfoy slides his finger along the collar of his shirt and tops up their wine. “Robes are uncomfortable.”

Harry stares at Malfoy and then starts laughing. “So you picked a tailored suit for _comfort_?”

“Not all of us have horrible dress sense like you, Potter.” Malfoy’s slim fingers brush Harry’s arm and it’s like a jolt of magic pulsing through Harry’s veins. “Although this isn’t as bad as previous efforts.”

“You think?” Harry’s surprised to find Malfoy’s compliment sends warmth pooling in his stomach. He fingers the cuffs of his green knitted jumper and flashes Malfoy a grin. “It’s new. Ginny made me buy it when we were in Covent Garden the other day. She said something about my eyes.”

“Did she?” Malfoy’s lips quirk into a smile and his gaze settles on Harry. His fingers are still resting on Harry’s arm, burning through the thick wool onto Harry’s skin. “She has good taste.”

“She’s great.” Harry isn’t sure why he’s talking about Ginny to Malfoy of all people. For some reason he finds himself carrying on about her latest Quidditch achievement like he’s the head of the Ginny Weasley fan club. Malfoy’s face takes on a peculiar expression as Harry talks, his hand leaving Harry’s arm and circling his wine glass.

“A match made in heaven.”

Harry startles and he shakes his head to clear the dust in his brain that’s making him talk ten to the dozen about Ginny’s latest Wronski Feint. “It’s not like that. She’s with Neville and witches aren’t really…”

“Your department?” Malfoy looks a good deal more pleased with himself.

“Not really.” Harry’s reply leaves him in a huff and he glances at Malfoy. “I heard that maybe they weren’t yours, either.”

“Really, Potter. I didn’t know you cared.” Malfoy’s slim fingers brush Harry’s arm again and he’s uncomfortably close, his breath warm on Harry’s cheeks and his smile doing peculiar things to Harry’s heart.

“I don’t care, you stupid arse.” It comes out a little bit more breathy than Harry had intended. He shifts a bit closer to Malfoy, despite himself. “Didn’t know you cared either.”

“I don’t.” Malfoy doesn’t sound so sure of himself either anymore, his tongue flicking over his lips as his gaze darkens and his eyes slide over Harry’s lips. “I couldn’t care less who you want to fuck.”

That word from Malfoy’s mouth sends a rush of desire through Harry’s body. He really shouldn’t have had so much wine because the combination of wine and Malfoy in a Muggle suit is clearly making him lose his mind. He feels like he could tell Malfoy anything in that moment and he’s suddenly, achingly desperate to feel Malfoy’s lips against his own. Largely to wipe the smug look off his face but also because Malfoy’s stormy eyed, curious and impossibly good looking. 

The words fall from Harry’s lips before he can stop them. “What if it’s you?”

Malfoy’s eyes widen and he stares at Harry. When he speaks his voice is low and it wavers. “What if _what’s_ me?”

Harry’s heart hammers loud enough to block out the chatter in the pub, until all he can hear is the ragged edge to Malfoy’s breathing. He steels himself because he’s pretty sure he can pretend this was all a horrible joke if Malfoy runs away screaming. “The…person I want to fuck.”

Well then. He’s said it. It’s like a weight’s been lifted from Harry’s shoulders and all of the sniping and fighting disappears into the distance. It’s just a wide-eyed Malfoy perusing him, chocolate-warm breath against his lips and an ache which crashes over Harry as he takes in the flicker of uncertainty in Malfoy’s gaze. 

As quickly as it came the brief vulnerability leaves Malfoy’s gaze and his expression smooths. The only evidence that Harry’s words have had any impact whatsoever are the two pink spots which bloom in his cheeks. He reaches for his wine, draining the remainder of the glass. “Where do you live these days, Potter?”

“Grimmauld Place.”

Malfoy rolls his eyes to the heavens and slides out of his seat, making his way to the Floo. “Of course you do.”

*

When Harry stumbles through the Floo, Malfoy’s already there. He’s not exactly made himself at home, but he’s discarded his blazer jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. The low candlelight in the living room accentuates the pale translucency of Malfoy’s skin and all Harry wants to do is taste him. He wants to feel the heat of Malfoy’s skin beneath his tongue and the thrumming of his heart against his lips. He stands, contemplating Malfoy for a charged moment where neither of them seems willing to make the first move.

Eventually, with a low sound rumbling in his throat, Harry tugs off his jumper and moves closer. Malfoy has the same idea and they meet in the middle, gripping onto one another as their lips connect. _Oh_. It’s better than anything Harry imagined – not that he imagined kissing Malfoy. Much. Malfoy’s lips are firm, practiced and insistent. He slides his hands into Harry’s hair and urges him deeper into the kiss. Their mouths open to one another and they clutch onto one another. Harry can’t get enough of Malfoy’s maddening, urgent kisses. He has to push his hands inside Malfoy’s shirt because he wants to feel skin beneath his fingers. He traces the bumps of Malfoy’s spine and every curve and muscle of his back, running his fingers over every part of Malfoy that’s accessible to him. He deepens the kiss with his palms flat against Malfoy’s warm, smooth skin and pulls their bodies closer together.

In response, Malfoy wraps his arm around Harry’s waist, his other hand tugging at Harry’s hair as he pushes closer. The kiss is full of ragged breaths and at one point, Harry’s sure he can hear Malfoy murmuring a broken-edged _Harry_ against his lips. He responds by pushing Malfoy back onto the sofa and straddling him awkwardly, diving in for another hard kiss. Malfoy slides his hands over Harry’s thighs and he holds him firmly in place, groaning into the kiss when Harry begins to rock against the hardness he can feel beneath his backside.

“Stupid bloody idea.” Harry mouths down Malfoy’s throat, shoving his shirt out of the way and trying to get to Malfoy’s trousers. “You’re going to be even more impossible on Monday.”

“Probably.” Malfoy’s smirking against Harry’s lips after yanking him into another fierce kiss. “I’ll remind you of your countless mistakes and tell everybody how you got on your knees to suck my cock.”

“I’m not on my knees.” Harry grinds back against Malfoy’s cock and sucks at a spot on his neck, watching the pale skin turn red with satisfaction. 

“Not yet,” Malfoy agrees. He brings his lips to Harry’s ear, his voice low and deeper than usual – rough with arousal. “I want to see your room. I want to see you stretched out on your bed, writhing and begging for my cock. I want to watch you come apart.” He nips at Harry’s earlobe and pushes him back. “ _Now_.”

Malfoy isn’t supposed to be able to do this to Harry. He isn’t supposed to be able to make Harry dizzy with want. His skin is so hot and itchy with need and his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. The way Malfoy speaks when he’s turned on is better than Harry ever thought it could be. His voice is so crisp and cultured and he almost drawls his words when he’s explaining what he wants to do to Harry. It’s sinfully good and it does all sorts to Harry’s cock which is already hard and uncomfortable, pressing against the thick denim of his jeans.

Instead of questioning it, Harry takes Malfoy’s hand and urges him up. They make their way up the stairs as quickly as they can and Harry wastes no time in stripping out of his clothes, watching as Malfoy does the same. He stretches on the bed and takes in the lines of Malfoy’s frame. His cock is long and hard and Harry’s already salivating at the thought of getting his mouth on Malfoy properly and hearing the kind of noises he makes when he’s on the edge of coming.

“Come on, then.” Harry wraps a hand around his cock and gives it a couple of quick strokes, watching Malfoy whose eyes are cool and focused on Harry’s body. His lips part and he clears his throat when a low sigh falls from his lips.

“You look...” Malfoy looks as though he wants to say something else before his jaw tightens and he moves to the bed, the weight of him pressing Harry down into the sheets. They’re kissing again before Harry can ask what Malfoy wanted to say and everything else melts away as Malfoy’s tongue strokes into Harry’s mouth and his teeth graze the line of Harry’s jaw. It’s almost too good, rocking into Malfoy naked and being kissed to within an inch of his life. “Do you have anything?”

“Anything?” Harry blinks, a little dazed as Malfoy gives him that slow, unreadable look. “You mean lube?”

“Yes.” Malfoy’s voice is strangely tight and he brushes his lips against Harry’s. “I prefer it to spells.”

“ _Fuck_.” Harry rolls over and reaches into his drawer, pulling out a bottle and giving it to Malfoy. “There you go. I like it too.”

“I bet you do.” Malfoy allows himself a small smirk but when he kisses a spot of exposed skin on Harry’s neck which leaves him breathless, Harry doesn’t really mind. Malfoy slicks his fingers with the lube and then takes Harry’s hand, adding some to his open palm. “I want you to touch yourself while I finger you. Don’t come, but just…show me how much you like it.”

Harry can’t find actual words to respond to Malfoy, grunting his approval and sliding a slick hand over his cock. Every part of his body is sensitised to Malfoy’s touch and he’s so close already he has to squeeze the base of his cock and count to ten before he can start stroking himself again. He keeps his strokes slow and smooth, not wanting to come before Malfoy gives him permission. The strange itchy feeling beneath his skin returns and it’s like Malfoy bossing him around actually goes some way to relieve that. He accepts Malfoy’s instruction without question and luxuriates in the opportunity to let somebody else take charge.

Malfoy presses slick fingers against Harry, rubbing over his skin and then sliding in with one. The angle is off but he shifts and slides back in again in a way which makes Harry’s eyelids flutter closed. He squeezes his cock again and keeps the movements of his hand slow. 

“Do you have any idea how you look like this?” Malfoy doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of Harry. To the contrary, he sounds almost awestruck, his eyes sliding over the full length of Harry’s body as he pushes in with a second finger. “The things I could do to you. The things I want to do to you.”

“You’ll have to make it good this time so I’ll want to do it again then, won’t you?” Harry’s not sure now’s the time for cheek but he can’t resist. He’s definitely going to want to do this again if Malfoy’s up for it, but he also doesn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of giving in completely after a bit of kissing and fingering. “You’ll have to-”

But then Malfoy’s fingers push deeper, curl back and Harry’s words leave him in a shudder as he says Malfoy’s name like a curse. It’s so _good_ what Malfoy’s doing with his fingers. His thoughts melt from him and slide away until it’s just Malfoy’s fingers inside him, working him open and brushing against his prostate until he’s pushing back against Malfoy’s hand and asking for _more, please more_.

“Can you come? I want to feel it.” Malfoy’s words are muffled as he speaks against Harry’s thigh, trailing light kisses closer to where his fingers are pushing into Harry. 

“Yeah, I…” Malfoy’s fingers rub inside him and Harry is undone. His orgasm takes him almost by surprise, washing over him as he comes all over his stomach and his hand. He falls back with a low groan and Malfoy joins him, looking down at Harry with a smug look on his face.

“Aren’t you going to clean that up?” Malfoy presses his lips to Harry’s ear, his voice low and seductive. “ _Dirty_ boy.” 

“Merlin.” Malfoy’s words send an unexpected shiver of pleasure through Harry and he stares as Malfoy nudges Harry’s hand to his lips. Holding Malfoy’s gaze, Harry licks his fingers in the most suggestive way possible and cleans the come from them. If Malfoy wants Harry to be _dirty_ he plans to give as good as he can. He notices the way Malfoy’s lips part as he watches Harry and sees the way his cock jerks with interest. Harry hopes Malfoy can’t see how hot his cheeks are and how his own cock twitches despite having just had one of the best orgasms of his life only moments before. 

“What about you?” When he’s done, Harry reaches for Malfoy and runs his fingers down his torso enjoying how he shivers under Harry’s touch. “What do you want?”

“I’m planning to give you a minute to recover and then I’m going to fuck you.” Malfoy kisses Harry, long, hot and filthy and smiles against his lips before pulling back. “Unless you have any complaints?”

“Hardly.” It sounds bloody fantastic, if he’s honest. Harry wriggles into the sheets, watching Malfoy. He takes in the mark he left earlier on Malfoy’s neck and the light scars on his torso which make his heart clench. He runs his fingers over Malfoy’s ribs and down to his bellybutton. He strokes his hand to Malfoy’s cheek and rubs his thumb over Malfoy’s bottom lip before finally sliding a hand into Malfoy’s hair and stroking his fingers through it. It’s impossibly soft and Malfoy almost purrs when Harry scratches his fingers through his hair and drinks in his every reaction. Malfoy’s face has the same, strange look he got earlier as he watches Harry.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything, Potter. I still dislike you intensely.” Malfoy leans into Harry’s hand in his hair and shifts closer. 

“The feeling’s mutual.” Harry nods and he leans forward to capture Malfoy’s lips in his. “You’re really annoying and you wear stupid clothes.”

“If you think I’m going to start making moon eyes at you after this, you’re mistaken.” Even as Malfoy speaks he’s slicking his cock and settling over Harry. “I’m not interested in being another one of your adoring fans.”

“As if.” Harry presses back against Malfoy and runs his fingers down his back where the perspiration has gathered in the curve of his spine. “We’ll still argue loads.”

“All the time, probably.” Malfoy sounds almost pleased at the thought and he pushes into Harry who's still slick and prepared from moments before. The sensation of Malfoy inside him is almost too much and Harry opens his mouth and closes it again, just gasping out Malfoy’s name before his lips are captured in a bruising kiss.

“Try not to ruin it by talking.” Malfoy’s words are broken and warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry would make a snappy comeback but really, Malfoy’s looking at him again with that strange, focused stare again as if he wants to take in every aspect of Harry’s face. It’s like he’s taking away every twist of Harry’s features and every stutter of breath leaving Harry’s lips. Harry meets his eyes and slides a hand into Malfoy’s hair, rocking back against him with a low groan. Harry tugs Malfoy into another fierce kiss which makes his heart almost thump out of his chest.

He’s happy to let Malfoy get the last word in for now. 

He has a feeling there’ll be plenty of opportunities to have his say.

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> You can now find a podfic of this work read by Firejuggler [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6180571)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Dapper by writcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6180571) by [fire_juggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler)




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